What are the odds?
by Last Haven
Summary: Written for the helpthesouth auction. After the fall of Voldemort, with the wizarding world of Britain is changed. The laws coming out now are just ridiculous. Especially this latest one, requiring Hermione to get married. At least, this Tom seems nice...


**AN: This is an auction prize from the help_the_south community on livejournal. The winner of this auction asked for a Marriage Law fic where Hermione ended up marrying her friend, a clone of Tom Riddle. Except, I screwed up and I ended up making two different versions of the prize, a cracky version and a more serious version.**

**This is the crack version. Have fun, y'all.**

* * *

><p>Laws like the ones that are coming out of the Ministry of Magic lately are frankly ridiculous in Hermione's opinion. They are also a mile long list of other adjectives as well—stupid, racist, sexist, classist, useless, and flat out insulting are at the top of that list. But this last one takes the cake; to be fair, Hermione can almost see the mindset of where such trash is coming from. The wizarding world after Voldemort's defeat is greatly diminished, entire pureblood lines wiped out, with barely enough people left to rebuild from a genetic standpoint.<p>

But this is ridiculous. Actually, it's beyond ridiculous—it's preposterous, outrageous, and absurd. It's, it's… well, Hermione can't quite find a word big enough to encompass how ludicrous—oh, wait, that's a good one!—the law is, but somehow, someway, it was passed by the Ministry.

All unmarried, eligible witches and wizards that worked at the Ministry of Magic were to marry another magical person or face heavy penalties. What 'heavy penalties' actually mean was left vague, but that isn't the point at all.

_Harry is lucky,_ Hermione thinks darkly as she sits across from a case worker who shuffles through files in her hands of wizards for Hermione to look through. It feels more like she is trying to sign up for a muggle university class than pick out a future spouse. _Harry can marry Ginny and be happy while I…_

She trails off, hands twisting in her lap. In front of her, the case worker hands over a few files for her to look through.

By the end of the meeting, there are seven stacks of folders in the discard pile and her case worker is looking seriously frazzled. Hermione just sits back and waits; she's a war hero, and while she can't dodge this law, she can afford to be as fussy as she pleases. The poor witch is nearly in tears as she hands over the next folder, eyeing the clock above Hermione's head which shows that their meeting has run over by nearly three hours and soon most of the Ministry will close for the night.

Hermione accepts the folder with studied indifference as she flips it open. The name vaguely rings a bell in her mind and there's a snapshot of a respectably handsome man inside. The photo winks at her to her annoyance, smirking up at her. She decides she doesn't like him already, but reads the files inside anyway. At last she hands the folder back to the witch who practically tosses the next at her.

Nott, Tom M. means little to her, but she frowns when she realizes that while the file insists he's lived in England all his life, he didn't attend Hogwarts or any other major wizarding school. She can only guess he was homeschooled, which still seems strange since she clearly recalled Theodore Nott attending Hogwarts. _Perhaps he's a cousin,_ she thinks with growing dislike as she finally found the enclosed photo.

_Well, he is certainly handsome at least,_ she thinks as she holds up the photo. The man in the photo—just a bit younger than herself according to the file—has black hair and dark eyes, his lips pleasantly full and tugged up in a roguish smile. It truly is a handsome face, or at least it interests her. Setting the snapshot aside, she looks back to the folder, flipping through at the data and the brief description of his character. Unusually, he has filled out an optional space, where he could describe more about himself.

He wrote about his interest of going into Law—something that instantly piques her interest since that is what she's after as well—and about his views on various mundane things. He isn't ready for children, but loves his cat like it was his child. He believes in a hard work ethic and admires perseverance. There is not the usual drivel about purity or much about his family at all, despite the fact she knows the Notts to be as pureblood fixated as the Malfoys.

The case worker looks so hopeful when she glances up that she takes pity and cuts to the chase as she announces her interest in this Tom M. Nott. The witch nearly sobs in joy and tells her to keep the file before shoving her out the door and hightailing it to the nearest floo exit.

The next few days she studies the folder and photo, but no one she knows has ever heard of him. Considering the size of her acquaintances, that's quite the feat. She's intrigued more so now, which leaves her friends bemused. Her outraged rants that she screamed when she first read about the law have vanished, leaving them lost, but quietly grateful that she seems somewhat happier, or distracted in the very least.

She meets Tom two weeks later on a Friday, after the case worker sets up a meeting. They eat lunch and Tom is every bit as charming as his photo and brings her a bouquet of sunflowers, mentioning he read in her file that she is allergic to roses. She's touched and they end up chatting about their mutual interest in Law before veering off into debating about the meaning of obscure ancient runes. Hermione goes home hours later with a warm feeling in her stomach, knowing that if all else fails, she's made a friend, even if he does have some severe views about penalties and punishments for lawbreakers.

Nearly a month later, she realizes she might have something of a crush on Tom. He's smart, witty, charming, and he adores Crookshanks. Even the thoughts of Ron that usually leave her feeling miserable have started to ease. With hope steadying her, she brings Tom to meet Harry and Ginny for dinner at their apartment.

The minute Tom enters behind her, Harry is staring and then on his feet shouting at her to move. Without thinking, old war instincts kick in and she reaches back, grabs the front of Tom's rather nice shirt, and pulls him down towards the ground with her. Poor Tom lands hard on his knees with a hiss; her hand searches for his to comfort him before she realizes Harry is still yelling at her to get out of the way.

Chaos continues for nearly five minutes as Hermione refuses to budge from in front of Tom, whom, Hermione realized, is Harry's target. The poor man can do little but hide behind his date while she argues with Harry.

Half an hour later, Harry is still testily eyeing Tom from across the table while the later tries valiantly not to give up and flee. Hermione is firmly not amused as she tries to reason with her dearest friends. Defending Tom gets harder, however, as he hesitantly keeps explaining that he was not a biological son of any Nott. Rather, he was some war orphan that had been entrusted to his adoptive parents just after the fall of Voldemort.

So, dinner was a bit of a flop.

Hermione began to wonder if the entire world was conspiring against her. What were the odds that after everything she went through, after all that she lost, all the hell she had to put up, that the first man that she honestly liked was some sort of copy of Voldemort?

Not good, she told herself as she went on another date anyway. Seriously, her luck couldn't be _that_ bad, could it?

During the honeymoon, when they travel to India, she finds Tom engrossed in a lengthy conversation with a cobra. Hermione falls silent and quietly swears to herself she's not going to tell Harry about this—after being the one saying "I told you so" when they were younger, she isn't sure she could handle having him tell her the same. Besides, the cobra tells them where to find the best restaurant in town, so she decides she can just live with it. It isn't like he cares that blood purity. Everyone deserves second chances right?

"You think I can hide this fellow in our luggage when we go home? I always wanted an exotic animal for a pet," he grins, holding the cobra up during dessert, terrifying their waiter.

Well. Okay, she draws the line at poisonous pets in her apartment, thank you very much. "He is not going to be sleeping next to me, and if you try to take him with us, neither will you."

He pouted about it for the rest of the meal.


End file.
